


The Language of Love

by FreshPrincessofCheyne



Category: DCU (Animated), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 12:03:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4665864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshPrincessofCheyne/pseuds/FreshPrincessofCheyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark uses kryptonese to admit his love for Bruce, to Bruce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Language of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short drabble I thought of and had to write, hope you enjoy!!

Dressed in his batsuit, Bruce was hunched over his workbench, using precise, measured movements to work at reinforcing his cowl; after having a concussion and still patrolling, creating an even greater risk of further permanent injury, Alfred had suggested using Kevlar for the mask as well. Bruce had gotten right to work. As of now his lower back ached, but he ignored the throb and continued to work away despite it. He was momentarily distracted though when he heard the sound of a silk cape swaying; settling and molding itself around a body like water- he felt the faint brush of air against the back of his neck, even smelt something that was different from the dampness of his cave; actual sunshine and _flowers_. Lilacs specifically. 

"Superman," he greeted swiftly, annoyance laced with his words as he finished up for the day, removing his gloves with a squeak of protest from the leather. He left the cowl perched on its stand, ready to be picked up tomorrow when his schedule wasn't hectic. For a moment as he organized, he grew more concerned at his friend's stretching silence. He spun around in his chair, his eyebrows raised.

"Hi, Batman. How have you been?" Clark looked as good as always; damn, the man literally _glowed_. Unlike others, it was  _not_ something Bruce was envious of.

"You know better than anyone that I have no time for pleasantries," he stated coolly, "Is there something you needed?"

Superman stepped forward, fiddling with his cape. "Can you listen to me talk?" Once he realized how idiotic he sounded, he immediately corrected himself with shaky words. "Well,  _uh_ , talk about stories, I mean." He was nervous and seemed unstable on his feet; Bruce was washed with a wave of worry. He lifted himself from his chair, scrutinizing Clark with narrowed eyes. He scanned for anything to indicate an exposure to kryptonite. 

" _Stories_? Could you be more specific?" 

Clark had never cared what Bruce thought of him, but suddenly, under the man's intense gaze, his _entire_ focus on Clark (he honestly would have felt better if Bruce's cowl had been on; surprisingly he was less intimidating as Batman), he couldn't help but feel sick to his stomach. He could feel the color drain from his face. He did not want to make an idiot of himself. 

He straightened his posture and cleared his throat. "I was going through some files on the Fortress computer and Krypton had all these cool urban legends that I wanted to share with you."

Batman resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he picked up a stack of the murder cases he had been reading, intent on solving as many as possible before the month was over. There was a particular one he had difficulty solving, one where-

"Batman?" 

With a curt nod towards Superman, the man practically beamed and sat comfortably in the air, his legs crossed. With his heart racing, he began in Kryptonese, " _I don't necessarily know where to begin, because we've gone through so much together in these years. It has been-_ "

"English would be nice," Batman barked, his eyes still on the files he studied. Clark didn't miss Bruce's stuttering heart; he could see the man's fingers tightening around the portfolio, crumpling the corner. 

"Listen," he said timidly, "I know you don't understand me, but I _need_ to do this in kryptonese. It just feels _right_ ," He mumbled, grabbing at his cape again. Batman grunted.

"Alright."

"You mean it, Bruce?" 

"Don't make me repeat myself, Clark," he snapped in response. Clark's posture went stiff, and in a teasing manner, he saluted.

"Yes sir," he joked, Bruce's mouth curving slightly upward at his foolishness. He smiled fondly at Bruce, and sighed happily, " _For a long time I wanted to write down everything I thought; everything I wanted. But, all I wanted was you. Whenever I'm around you, I don't need to write anything down for keepsake because our time together are the strongest memories I have. I remember every detail. I remember you most vividly. Every quirk of your mouth, every muscle flex. Every word. Since you don't talk often, I hang off all your words, even if we're arguing._ " Bruce's face remained impassive as he read the files and offered half his attention to his friend. " _I may annoy you, but that's only because I want to see you. There's not anything worthy to trade in the world just to be able to share one kiss with you. Just one intimate touch to keep me happy. It's okay if you don't allow it, though. I understand. But if only you understood what I feel for you. There aren't words for it. Describing it as love is a pathetic way of describing it_ ," Clark chuckled lightly and Bruce's eyebrows raised momentarily in questioning, but he didn't pry.

" _It is so much more. And I wish you could at least see it. See how much I would risk my life for yours. How I would kill for you. When Luthor had been the reason for you to risk your life saving the planet, and I witnessed what I thought had been your death, I had lost hope. I had lost everything to me. It was like having a chunk of kryptonite dig out my heart. I_ " - he paused, glancing down with eyebrows knit together, Bruce being able to detect the sorrow in his voice- " _I wanted to cry; scream. Smash whatever was around me into dust. Everyone had been cheering, and I simply couldn't. Because I had just lost everything I fought for. Then when I found you alive, with nothing but a few broken ribs and scrapes, I could have kissed you. But I didn't. I thought for sure I could see it too- the particular glimmer in your eyes when I got a hold of you. The love. When I had my world- my home, in my arms again, it was everything I needed and that was when I found the reason to cheer. Just knowing you're safe, Bruce, is enough for me. Because if you can fight despite everything you've been through, so can I._ "

Bruce wasn't even reading the files anymore, he had stopped awhile back when he sensed the pride and love in Clark's voice; it practically dripped with it. He was very into his story telling, and Bruce had never met anyone else that paid more attention to his facial expressions then himself. There were a variety of them, but his eyes seemed to reveal the one true emotion; admiration. He sounded as if he were worshiping someone, and that was when Bruce became skeptical about Clark's urban legends statement. He glanced at his friend intensely, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He did look particularly gorgeous today. Remaining silent, he let Superman continue. 

" _I tried to find someone else who I knew would love me back just as much as I loved them. But truth be told, I couldn't love anyone else. Whenever I'd go on a date, all I could see was you. I imagined taking you on a first date, and being able to hold your hand; feel it's warmth beneath my fingers and prove everyone wrong when they'd say you were as cold as a December night, when you're the warmest man I've ever met; inside and out. There are so many things I admire in you, Bruce. Your willpower for one- it could make Lantern look like a fool. Your dedication. Your strength. God, your heart. Even after yours being ripped to shreds, you still manage to find a piece of it to offer to someone in need of a little love. You've got kids who were in need of a family and you gave them that home; a father. That may even be a bigger mantel then the Batman_."

Superman laughed briefly, catching Bruce's attention, " _You even installed a cute little car seat in the back of the Batmobile and I still don't understand how people can say you have no heart. Yes, sometimes you can be mean and say hurtful things, but I know you don't mean it. That it's just the shell you've built around yourself from fire and blood to protect you and your reputation. You are a good man, Bruce. Even if you don't believe it, I do. Those are only a few things I admire, even envy about you. I can already imagine what you'd say, that I had nothing to envy. Well, I do. I envy the love you've given and I wish you could give me some too. Just a little bit of your heart."_

Superman went silent, and Batman looked up, his heart far beyond a steady beat at this point. He could hear the blood pound in his ear, a grin lingering on his lips. He could listen to Clark talk all day, even if he was speaking a different language. It was just the way his body moved, his eyes would wrinkle when he laughed, his smile absolutely stunning; it intrigued Bruce far more than Clark's words did. He looked so relieved, his posture lazy, meaning he was comfortable. It was a rare occurrence that someone was comfortable in Batman's presence, especially talking about old stories so confidently. 

"Thank you for sharing, Clark. Besides the fact that I couldn't understand a word you said, it was...relaxing," Bruce said, straining in expressing his enjoyment. Superman noticed something odd about Batman's tone of voice; it was tight, compressed to the point of combustion, but it sounded sincere. Well, to Clark anyway. 

"Would it cause to much trouble if I stopped by tomorrow?"

Bruce answered rather urgently. "Not at all."

Superman hovered, a careful smile lifting the corners of his lips. Bruce's heart skipped. Of fucking course- around the one person who could _actually_ hear his heart, he had no control over its spasmodic rhythm. He hoped Clark didn't notice, but Bruce wasn't going to doubt that he didn't. 

"'Bye Bruce," he said sheepishly, giving a small wave before disappearing in a whoosh of wind. Bruce sighed and shut down the cave for the night, sleeping restlessly, Clark's words dancing around his mind like kaleidoscope colors.

*~~*~~*

" _I'm so horny today, Bruce_ ," Clark began, as Bruce sat in a chair in his living room, a cup of coffee cupped snugly in his hands. Clark was sitting on the couch opposite of him in a loose fitting shirt and jeans. He looked yummy- candy Bruce wanted to suck. " _I was late because I couldn't stop thinking about you; my hands all over you, touching you in ways no one else has. Imagined my cock inside you, slowly fucking in, then out. Taking my time to listen to the beautiful noises I'd know you'd make, saying my name... Rao, Bruce, it's_ killing _me. I've done nothing but wrap my fingers around my cock and cum nonstop thinking of you, only you,_ all _of you- your delicious thighs, your mouth, your ass I'd do anything just to pound. You don't know what you do to me. And that gravely voice -damn- drives me nearly crazy. I have to resist the urge to jack off whenever you speak to me over my comms; resist asking you to talk to me, tell me how you'd want me to fuck you. I'd take you roughly from behind, pull on your hair, mark your skin and your body would arch against mine, screaming for me to do it harder...Fuck_." Clark ran a hand through his hair, messing it. Bruce sensed his distress and leaned forward, placing his mug on the table. 

He licked his lips, a layer of sweat coating his skin. "What's wrong?"

Clark sighed in frustration. " _Why can't you just see how much I want you Bruce? How much I goddamn_ need _you_?"

Bruce blinked. "Clark. English," he demanded. "And don't you dare use attitude with me. Just because I can't understand you doesn't mean I don't understand your tone of voice," He added firmly, taking a sip of his coffee. Clark wanted to scoff, but he refrained from doing so.

" _I want to make love to you too_."

"Still not English."

Clark couldn't ignore the wild thump of Bruce's heart in his head like a song, the blood pumping wildly through his veins. Clark almost wanted to groan- he could hear Bruce's arousal, practically taste it. Maybe Bruce _was_ as good at reading body language as he thought. He could probably sense that Clark wanted to fuck the shit out of him right now; pin him down, hold his arms behind his back and drive into him with everything he could give. Usually that was something someone could easily decipher.

"Shut up, Bruce. I'm not done."

Bruce put his arms up in surrender, and leaned back in his chair, pulling his knees to his chest with the mug nestled in between them.

" _I want to make love to you_ ," He repeated in kryptonese, " _Show you how good I could make you feel. Let my fingers touch every scar, kiss every curve. I want you all to myself. I want to love you under the Northern Lights while we're in the Fortress. I want to kiss you. Call you mine. But most of all, I want to share even more memories with you. I want to laugh with you, be the reason you smile. Be the reason for your happiness_."

Despite not knowing what Clark was speaking, Bruce seemed to listen as if he did. He remained unblinking, soaking in the strange words. Observing. He looked clueless. It made Clark feel like shit. He was pouring his heart out to Bruce in a language no one but himself knew because he was to much of a coward to just straight up _say it_. He tried to convince himself that he had nothing to lose, but in this case, he had _everything_ to lose. Bruce's friendship meant the world to him and if it would never move on from that point, he was still glad to have Bruce as a friend. Better to have something rather than nothing. 

" _You've got everything. Me on the other hand... if I don't have you, I've got nothing_. _I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Bruce_. _No one else but you. I want to continue to fight at your side, but I want to come home with you and be able to stitch you up when you need stitching up; tend to your wounds, physical ones and mental ones."_

While Clark paused and thought of something to add, Bruce was faster; unable to wait any longer. " _That's Alfred's job. So, if you're going to come home with me after long days, I'd advise for you to choose another one_ ," Bruce said in perfect kryptonese. Clark could feel his heart drop in his chest. His whole world came to a stop, leaving him disorientated and nauseated. The silence stretched on, his eyes wide, his heart hammering in his rib-cage. His jaw was halfway to the floor.  _No_ **fucking** _way_.

Snapping him from his trance, Bruce was now lifting his legs to straddle Clark's waist, his fist closed around the collar of his shirt.

"I- _What_ -Bruce...?" He stammered out hopelessly. 

"What?" He questioned defensively. "All that time I spent on your computer; what the _hell_ did you think I was doing? Writing fan fiction? You're an idiot, you know that, Kent?"

"I-I know...I-"

Cupping his cheeks, he said in Superman's language, " _Shut up and fucking kiss me- I've gone through hell trying to hate the idea of loving you_."

That was all he had to say, and eagerly, Clark pulled Bruce closer to his body, their lips locking fervently. God, Bruce has never wanted to kiss someone so damn bad in his life. Especially after all the shit Kent just admitted. It was a messy kiss though; needy and desperate. They would have plenty of time to put more passion into their touches and kisses. When Bruce pulled away to breathe, the two of them gasping, they needed a moment to compose themselves. With eyes still shut, their foreheads touching, they took the minute to revel in the joy of finally- _finally_ being able to be together. It was almost _to_ sweet. Which made Bruce paranoid. Good things always came to an end. But maybe, just this once, he could hold onto this happiness. He knew Clark would make sure of it- he could count on Clark to take care of him. 

Once they had the time to catch their breath, Clark said, "You're incredible, Bruce. You always find a way to leave me speechless."

"I know. You're not so bad yourself."

With his hand on Bruce's hip, the other on his lower back, he pressed his lips to his collarbone. The man above him hummed in appreciation, Clark buzzing at the deep, alluring vibration. Bruce wrapped his arms around Clark, nuzzling the larger man's neck. He sighed in genuine satisfaction. 

"You know," Bruce said against Clark's chest, his head lifting to gaze into the sapphire blue that stared back at him, "We have a hell of a lot of catching up to do."

Standing suddenly with Bruce still in his arms, the man's legs now wrapped tightly around Clark, he carried him up the stairs and down a hall, towards a room he hoped was Bruce's.

"Wrong door. It's farther down the hall."

Clark huffed in defeat, and reached for another doorknob as Bruce continued to press his lips to any exposed skin he could reach, practically purring as Clark's large hand gripped his ass, holding him up with one arm. He couldn't stop himself from just touching Clark; even combing his fingers through the man's hair sent shivers down his spine. 

"That's one of the bathrooms," he murmured, giggling quietly. 

"Oh, for the love of- Start labeling your doors."

When he found the double doors, Bruce muttered in amusement, "There you go."

Once the door was opened and Clark kicked it shut, he fell onto the bed with Bruce beneath him. He laughed, then teased, "Alright, so where were we?" He brushed Bruce's hair out of his eyes and leaned down to softly ghost his lips along the line of Bruce's jaw, then taking his time in traveling down the base of his throat.

"Catching up," he replied seductively.

"Right, _well_ " -Clark kissed him, Bruce's hand gently tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck as the man looming above him stole his breath away again- "let's make up for lost time."


End file.
